A long wait for freedom
by charlie-becks
Summary: A 5year old child dies at the hands of his family And to this day can be seen at the house in which he died. Will he be saved or will he be on his own forever? Warning: mentions of abuse
1. Help Me!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

It has been said that I'm a heartless man, feelings such as fear, pity even remorse are beyond my comprehension. I will be the first to admit that at one point in my life I would have wholly agreed with these beliefs, but going to that house, preparing myself to pick up the child or my school rival and closest friend, I felt these and so much more.

At first I feared how the child would act, would he display the arrogance of his father, or the gentleness of his mother? To be honest I didn't know what I wanted more, I know I wanted to hate him, I needed to hate him! It would have been easy if he had been arrogant, but no, life has never been easy so why would it start now?

I remember walking down the street, lined with identical houses and perfectly mowed lawns, I even remember the feeling or dread building in my stomach as I arrived at Number 4, the dread growing with every step I made towards the front door, the hesitancy in which I reached my hand forward to knock. I must have stood there fifteen minutes, knocking repeatedly and waiting for an answer, my dread quickly turned to annoyance, and I eventually tried the handle to discover the door unlocked.

Dust, that's the first thing I saw, dust and cloth. The furniture was covered and personal items gone, the damp in the air telling that nobody had been in this house for a very long time. I gradually made my way through the rooms finding the occasional abandoned picture showing a man and woman, with a fairly rotund child, but no sign of and black haired, green eyed child. In fact there wasn't any indication of another child having ever lived in this house.

I carried on searching, hoping to find a clue as to where the family had gone, or where the child I had come to collect had gone. It wasn't until I reached the kitchen that I paused, I could almost feel the eyes of somebody watching, my bones were screaming that somebody was there, that was when I heard it, what sounded like the giggling of a young child coming from behind me, but as a spun around I it disappeared. There was no trace of anyone having been near me, or in the adjacent rooms. I returned to the kitchen to continue my search, and there sat at the kitchen table was the boy I had been searching for.

Something was wrong; the child sat at the table, swinging his legs back and forth couldn't have been more the five years old. Yet he sat there, smiling, eating what looked to be strawberries, however as I neared the table, he vanished.

I started to panic, wondered what had happened, where he had gone. I once again ran through the house, searching like a mad man, just trying to find a trace of the child. I had almost given up hope when I heard a voice,

"Mister?" I turned, and there stood at the base of the stairs stood the child. He looked so innocent, so damn small! Dwarfed in clothing that was obviously not his own. He was so small damn it!

He spoke to me again and held his bowl, which until this point had been clutched in a death grip, towards me,

"Would you like a berry?"

Without thinking, I climbed down the stairs and reached my hand as if to take a berry, but as I was about to grasp the fruit, the child vanished once more.

I'm ashamed to admit that I turned to leave, I was afraid. Afraid of what the apparition of this child meant, or for my own sanity, I can't be sure. I was almost at the front door when he spoke again,

"Will you be my friend?" I turned back to face him, and the look of hope, of innocence on his face, there was no way of me refusing this child. I nodded my head and tried to reach for him, even now I'm unsure whether it was to comfort him, or to reassure myself that he was there, but before I could touch him he said the words that would haunt me forever,

"Was I bad?"

It was said with a tilt of his head, he had a sad, curious smile on his face, almost as though he was accepting his fate. It was said with the innocence that only children have. He looked at me as if I held all of the answers in the world, as though I could explain things to him, protect him from something I didn't yet understand.

That's when I made my decision, the decision that I am deeply ashamed of and will always, always regret.

I ran.

It was months before I learnt of the events that took place in that house. The young boy that nobody in the surrounding houses knew existed, the young boy that had been abused. Forced to work and locked away, beaten for things beyond his control. It wasn't until a neighbour spotted him one day, glimpse of him through the window, they became suspicious and called the police, but they were too late.

The Uncle admitted to his crimes, he told of the pleasure he took in causing his nephew pain, the pleasure he got out of the happiness the child showed when he was released from his cupboard. The pleasure he got from the pure joy the child had shown at being allowed a place at the kitchen table, and given his own bowl, of fresh strawberries. He told of the contentment the child had as he ate what was to be his last meal.

Harry Potter was five years old when he was found dead in the cupboard under the stairs, his small body was bruised and broken, but in the end the beatings weren't what killed him. Harry Potter was poisoned, his Uncle having coated his stale food, and sparse water with arsenic for months, and having administered the final deadly dose in a bowl of freshly picked strawberries.

It is said that even to this day, that small child can be seen sitting at the table, swinging his legs and smiling happily, freely at the world, waiting for thirty years for somebody to save him, for a friend, and I Severus Snape have never forgiven myself for not being that somebody.

A/N: It has taken me 4years to revise this chapter lol, i hope you enjoy reading it, i will post the original first chapter at the end of the story if you prefer that version! Please leave any feedback you may have, and i understand that the story is completely AU and that the other chapters don't follow this one completely and i hope you enjoy it anyway.


	2. Now or Never

Chapter two: Now or Never

Albus put down the parchment he was reading and got up to look out the tall  
windows overlooking the Forbidden Forest. Frost laced the edge of the glass.  
Winter was coming on. Fog rose from the ground stretching between the castle  
and the forest, like a ghost of seasons past. Very appropriate, he thought  
ironically, considering the topic.

"I always wondered what actually happened the day you went to pick him up.  
I know you came back changed, but all you would ever say was that Harry had  
been dead for six years. I thought the cause was accidental, I never  
knew…"

"Because I didn't want you to know, you had enough on your shoulders with  
the war. The details would have served no purpose."

"What is it you propose to do Severus? You can't bring the dead back to  
life. You know that as well as I. Believe me, if there was a way…"

"I am not a fool Albus. I know that I can't bring him back, but I can  
still free him from that house. I can still save him."

"How?"

"I want the mirror."

"The mirror?"

"Don't play games. We're both too old for that. You know what I mean  
- the Mirror of Erised."

"Ah… that mirror."

"Yes that mirror. You owe me that much. You owe Harry that much. You  
failed him as much as I."

The truth of that statement weighed heavily on the old wizard's heart,  
making him feel even older than his one hundred and eighty years. It was  
undeniably true. Harry death, even though not at his hand, had been his  
greatest failure. He had passively neglected him, to no lesser degree, than  
what his caretakers had done so actively.

"But why after all these years. It's been three decades. Why now?"

"I'm dying," the Potions Master stated matter-of-factly, "One too  
many curses at the hands of the Dark Lord."

"There is no hope then?"

"No. None. So as the old saying goes, it's now or never."

"I am so sorry my boy. I never wanted that outcome for you. I hope you  
know that."

"I know. I do not blame you my friend. My fate was in my own hands. It  
was my decision, my choice."

"The same cannot be said of Harry."

"That is why I must do this."

Albus sat back down at his desk and scanned through the parchment one last  
time before leaning back in his chair and studying the younger man across from  
him intently.

"Say I do ask you ask, and I give you the mirror… how will it save  
Harry?"

"Leave that to me. I've had thirty years to think about it. I am not  
wrong."

"As you will then, you'll find it in the cloak closet off the Great  
Hall."

"You hid the Mirror of Erised in the cloak closet? Are you insane?"  
Severus asked incredulously.

"It was a great hiding place." Albus shrugged with a twinkle in his eye.  
"You never found it did you?"

"Point taken."


	3. Never Again

Chapter three: Never Again

I walked down the drive at Number 4 Privet Drive and took a deep breath at  
the front door.

Thirty years ago, while the house was beginning to look uncared for, it was  
nothing compared to this. The house had fallen into decay and was rotting  
from the ground up. Most of the windows were broken and boarded up. The  
yard just weeds and dirt, brown, despite the early winter snow covering almost  
everything else. At some time in the past, an optimistic Realtor had put up a  
'For Sale' sign, but it had long since fallen over. No doubt victim of  
the same vandals who had broken the windows and sprayed graffiti on the  
crumbling brick sides of the house.

Turning the handle of the door, I was surprised when it swung in noiselessly,  
but gratified to see that at least the inside of the house had been left  
untouched. The idea of thoughtless delinquents frightening the young ghost,  
by invading his house, shook me to the core, and steeled my resolve.

I needn't have worried. In the deep dust that covered every surface, I  
could see where over the years people had dared entered, but few of the  
footprints went farther than a meter or two from the door in any direction.  
Slow in, fast out, the telltale prints told the whole story.

"Harry? Where are you?" I called out, feeling the fool when I received  
no answer.

I wandered about the house for several hours with increasing doubt about my  
sanity, until I heard a small sound, a small hiccuppy sob.

"Harry? Is that you? Come out where I can see you."

"Can't," sniffed the small voice.

"Why not?"

"…'cause I was bad."

"You're not bad Harry."

"I'm not?"

While talking with Harry, I carefully followed his voice until I was led to a  
small cupboard under the stairs. This must have been the cupboard where he  
had died, where his uncaring relatives had locked him away from the world. I  
finally had a chance to answer the question that had haunted me for thirty  
years.

Opening the small door, I saw the small five-year-old in the too large  
clothes, huddled terrified in the corner, his large green eyes brimming with  
tears.

"No Harry, you are not bad. In fact you are a very good boy."

"I am? Really?"

"Yes really."

"Will you play with me? Nobody ever wants to play with me. They always  
leave. I 'member you, you left me too…" he added wistfully.

"I'm not going to leave. Why don't you come out now?" I asked  
holding out my hand, only to have him disappear as he had done years before.

"Okay Mister." He chirped happily from behind me, tears gone.

I whirled around to find him standing at the door to the kitchen, so small,  
so vulnerable, still holding his cherished bowl of strawberries.

"Would you like a berry?"

"Very much." Severus answered

"They are very good. I love strawberries," he said as he held out the  
bowl to me.

"I love strawberries too." I replied pulling a small bundle out of my  
pocket. "I just need to do something first, and then we will both have  
some. How would that be?" I smiled encouragingly at him as I unwrapped the  
bundle, placing a small claw footed mirror on the floor in the hall by the  
front door.

"What'cha gonna do Mister? Can I help?" he asked with the curiosity  
and willingness of the small child he will always be.

"Yes you may. I have a very pretty mirror here. I would like you to look  
into it with me. Can you do that?" I asked, saying the spell to restore  
the mirror.

Harry watched amazed as the mirror grew in size. Drawn to it like a moth to  
a flame, the little ghost boy timidly reached out and tried to touch the  
glass. A delicate ring of frost raced from where the tip of his ghostly finger  
transected the surface, around the edge, to meet at the top where the  
inscription 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi' was etched.

"What's that say Mister?"

"It says: I show not your face but your heart's desire. What is it you see  
in the mirror Harry?"

I held my breath for his answer. I only prayed that I was right. That since  
the young child did not understand that he was dead that he would still be  
able to see himself. And that the mirror's powers held true not only for  
this world but also for the next, as long as the desire was there.

"I see me and my friend. We're having a picnic in a meadow. We're  
eating my berries."

"Who is your friend?"

"Why you silly," he said smiling at me over his shoulder before turning  
back to the mirror and whispering longingly,

"I never get to go outside, and I've always wanted a friend."

I went to stand behind him. In the mirror, I saw myself holding Harry on my  
hip, one arm wrapped protectively around his thin body, while in the other  
hand was the bowl of strawberries.

Taking a bite of one of his succulent berries, liberally dusted with  
sparkling crystalline fatality, I looked deep into his green eyes and said,

"You have one now Harry."

"You promise you won't leave me?" he asked shyly as he fingered the  
buttons on the front of my robe.

As I stepped into the lush green meadow with Harry safely in my arms, I  
whispered in his ear,

"Never, Harry. Never again."


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue: The long journey home

"Yup, this is it." the moving man said to his partner.

"But isn't this the haunted house?" his partner asked. "You sure you  
got the address right?"

"Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Yup, this is definitely  
it."

The two men got a large crate off their truck and wheeled it through the snow  
on a dolly and into the house. The prepaid order, from one Professor S.  
Snape, was for them to crate up a large antique claw foot mirror to be found  
at this location, and to take it to the train station at Kings Cross.

The men went to work efficiently and soon the well packed crate was back on  
the truck.

Other than being heavy, it wasn't a difficult job. Yet they were both  
relieved when they delivered the crate to the train station as instructed,  
placing it in care of a very large, very tall, bearded man.

They both watched in awe as the giant sized man picked it up single-handedly  
and with a nod, turned and carried it off, seeming to disappear, despite his  
size, into the crowd somewhere between platforms nine and ten.

The only evidence he'd been there at all was a trail left behind of hushed  
whispers, giggles, and the scent of ripe summer strawberries.

-fin-

a/n- ok I didn't actually write the last 3chapters my friend DracaDelirus, please let me know what you thought, but the credit goes to her.

Charlie-becks x


	5. Help Me! Original version!

_**A long wait for freedom**_

People say I'm a heartless man, that fear and pity are things I've never felt before, but going to that house to pick up the child of my most hated enemy and my closest friend I felt both.

I feared how the child would act, would he be arrogant like his father of kind and gentle like his mother? But, I also felt pity for a child that would never know his parents or what its like to be free, free of fame, free of the nightmare in which he lost his parents.

I walked down the drive to the most ordinary house I had ever seen, but I felt a feeling of dread building in my stomach with every step closer I became. I knocked on the door preparing myself for what was about to come, I knocked repeatedly waiting for somebody to answer. When nobody answered I tried the door. Dust, that's all I saw, dust and cloth covered furniture, showing that nobody had lived here for along time. I looked through every room, I found pictures of what must have been his relatives, but no sign that a small black haired, green eyed child had ever lived here.

I walked into the kitchen and paused felling the eyes of somebody watching. That was when I heard a child like giggle come from behind me, I spun around so fast I made myself dizzy, but nobody was there. I looked back around and there sat at the kitchen table was the boy I had been looking for, he couldn't have been older then five ears old, he sat there swinging his legs, smiling while eating a bowl of strawberries, he looked as innocent as any 5year old should be, but as I made to grab him he vanished.

I searched the house once again for signs of where the child had gone, I must have searched for hours, but found nothing. As I started losing hope I heard a small voice say,

"Mister?" As I looked back the child stood there at the base of the stairs, in clothes that made him look so small, so vulnerable that I couldn't think of what to do. He spoke softly holding out the bowl of fruit,

"Would you like a berry?" I reached my hand towards the bowl, but as I was about to grasp the fruit, they both disappeared once more. I turned to leave when I once again heard a whispered,

"Will you be my friend?" I turned back and he stood there with a look of such hope that I couldn't refuse, I nodded my head, and once again tried to reach for him, that's when I heard the words that would haunt me forever,

"Was I bad?"

It was said with tilted head and a sad, curious smile, showing the innocence that ony a child could have. He looked at me as though I had all the answers in the world, as though I could help him, protect him from something I didn't understand. That's when I made a decision I regret even now, I ran.

~*~

It was months before I learnt of what had happened in that house, the young boy had been abused; he was locked away by his relatives in a cupboard. A neighbour saw him one day and became suspicious and phoned the police, but they were too late. The Uncle admitted to his crimes, and told of the pleasure he got out of hurting his nephew, the pleasure he got out of how happy the child was to be let out to sit at the table and eat what was to be his last meal. Harry Potter was five years old when he was found dead in the cupboard under the stairs, his small body bruised and broken, but that's not what killed him, no Harry Potter was poisoned. It is said that to this day that small child can be seen sitting at the kitchen table swinging his legs and smiling at the world, waiting even thirty years later for somebody to save him, and I Severus Snape have never forgiven myself for not being that somebody.

A/N-I hope you all enjoyed reading this, well not enjoy it, but you know what I mean. I had a very strange dream and wrote it down and this is what I came up with :) please let me know what you think.


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